


For love

by Vivat_Leah



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivat_Leah/pseuds/Vivat_Leah
Summary: Daphne has been kidnapped and her kidnapper has a unique idea of a ransom.In response to prompt for Bridgerton Kink Meme: Fuck or Die
Relationships: Simon Basset & Anthony Bridgerton, Simon Basset/Anthony Bridgerton
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34
Collections: Bridgerton Kinkmeme - Issue 01 - 2021





	For love

Anthony was angry. Daphne was in danger and it was all Simon’s fault. Not only had he seduced and compromised his sister, but now, when he finally had her and was supposed to be responsible for her safely, he had allowed her to be kidnapped.

Anthony was riding hard to get the appointed meeting place. He had received the note just as he was leaving his leisurely Sunday morning bath, meaning to continue the day in much the way he had started, by lazing about the place. 

It was short and to the point: “I have the Duchess of Hastings. Come to the Bridgehouse meadow at noon. Come alone or she dies.” With the note came a small bag in which Anthony found what he could only assume was one of Daphne’s earrings, with a bit of dried blood on it.

It did cross his mind that this could be false or a sick joke, but when he got the note it was already after ten and the woods he had to get to were close to an hour’s ride away so he didn’t exactly have time to conduct due diligence in the matter. It was Daphne, he couldn’t take any chances. She might be a married woman now but she was still his little sister. And protecting her was not an easily forgotten habit.

Plus, if she had indeed been kidnapped, it would have been done right from under the Duke’s nose, as they were still honeymooning at Clyvedon, so clearly the man could not be trusted to retrieve her.

Concern and fear were not emotions Anthony was used to dealing with so he opted to focus on the one that came easy to him. Anger.

Specifically anger directed at his old friend, the Duke of Hastings . How could he let this happen? And if Daphne was truly missing, why wasn’t he the one being called to a rendezvous? Anthony focused on feeding the flames of his rage as he rode his horse into the ground trying to get there as soon as possible. 

He reached the assigned place with nearly a quarter of an hour to spare and was surprised to find Simon already there. Pacing and looking anguished.

“Anthony,” he exclaimed, upon Anthony’s dramatic entry into the clearing. He galloped in at full speed and had to stop his horse mid-step to prevent both of them from galloping straight into the Duke. 

They were in a reasonably small meadow that was a popular picnic spot in the summer, but was pretty much guaranteed to be deserted at this time of year. Even though it was early autumn and the weather was still mild, picnic season was long finished. 

“What are you doing here?” he continued, as Anthony disembarked, letting his tormented horse rest beside Simon’s.

“I received a note about Daphne. I assume the fact that you are here means it is true, she is truly missing?” he replied, trying to get his breathing back in order after the exertions of getting here. There was still a small hope at the back of his mind that this was just a supremely stupid trick Simon had decided to play on him. Although his demeanour certainly did not support this theory. He looked like a man well and truly in distress and failing to hide it from the world at large. 

“I received a note too,” Simon confirmed, “I thought she was out on her usual morning stroll through the gardens, I hadn’t even suspected anything could be wrong before the note was delivered to me. One of her earrings was attached to it. I gave them to her just a few days before, those earrings.” 

Anthony took this in, at least the earrings were confirmed to be hers but this could still be some kind of mistake. 

“Did you look for her?” Anthony asked. Simon’s nostrils flared.

“Of course I bloody well looked. I scoured the grounds. I questioned the staff. I even had people search the entire village. She left for her walk around six and no one had seen her since.” Simon produced this in a tirade of words, finishing on a desperate little note that made Anthony feel sorry for him despite himself. 

Before he could respond, with more questions or words of comfort, they both heard a horse and cart approaching from the path through the woods. Anthony glanced at Simon but he was staring intently at the opening in the trees so Anthony turned his face in the same direction. 

The horse appeared first, and half a second later Anthony saw, to his indignation, that the driver was none other than the weasley scoundrel, Lord Berbrooke. 

“What are you playing at, Berbrooke,” he exclaimed, just as Simon shouted: “What have you done to her, you scoundrel,” and made a lunge for the man.

He stopped in mid track as a loud bang rang out. For a horrifying second, Anthony thought Simon had been seriously wounded and rushed to his side, but the bullet only grazed his left arm above the elbow. It was bleeding, but appeared to be merely a flesh wound. Whether on purpose or due to poor aim Lord Berbrooke had shot wide. The former theory seemed more likely considering the distance between them, or lack thereof. 

He was now holding a second revolver aimed in their direction as he started to speak.

“None of that. You are both going to calm down and do as I say or I will shoot you both dead and then go back to  _ sweet _ Daphne and do much worse things to her.” The way he drew out the word sweet made Anthony’s skin crawl and Simon looked ready to lunge again, revolver or not. Anthony grabbed his arm and held him back. They weren’t going to get Daphne back by getting themselves killed. Simon glared at him but stopped trying to move towards Berbrooke. 

“What do you want?” He asked instead, his voice strained from anger. 

“First, move back,” Berbrooke called forcefully. Anthony started to move back, having to pull on Simon to make him follow. 

Did the fellow really not see that while having a gun pointed at one's head really wasn’t the best time to be stubborn?

They kept moving until he gave them the signal to stop, at which point they were at least fifteen paces away, roughly in the middle of the meadow. 

Berbrooke directed his horse so that he was effectively blocking the path by which he arrived and twisted in the driver's seat to face towards them again. Then Berbrooke smiled in a sickly manner and set to reloading his second revolver before answering. His other one was in his lap, within easy reach.

Simon looked like he was fuming, so Anthony felt that the duty of remaining the level-headed one fell to him. Another reason to resent Simon. To distract himself, Anthony took the opportunity to untuck his shirt and tear off a piece from the bottom to bandage around Simon’s injured arm which was bleeding liberally, although the Duke certainly didn’t look like he noticed it. 

Once Berbrooke was done reloading the revolver, he finally spoke.

“You two humiliated me, lied to me, and took away my one chance at happiness,” he spit out. “And now I will make you pay.” He looked like a puffed up turkey as he spoke. “And if you don’t comply with all of my requests,” he continued “Daphne will die.”

Simon looked like he was about to say something they might regret so Anthony jumped in.

“How do we know you even have her?” He asked, trying to keep his voice level, even though it really wasn’t easy, between his disgust at the slimy creature in front of them and having to restrain Simon. 

Berbrooke smiled an unpleasant, leery smile and grabbed a bundle that was next him on the seat, throwing it towards them. Simon caught it easily with his unharmed hand, but his face turned horrified as he unfolded it. He made another lunge for Berbrooke and Anthony barley caught him in time, with Berbrooke raising his gun again and aiming straight at Simon’s chest. 

“You sick bastard, I will kill you,” he shouted, as he strained against Anthony’s grip, “What did you do to her?”

It took Anthony a second to figure out what it was that was thrown to them and why it made Simon so crazy. He went cold all over as he realised that it was a set of ladies undergarments. 

He suddenly regretted holding Simon back.

“I swear..” he started to Berbrooke, but the man didn’t let him finish.

“Enough!” He shouted. “Enough, with the dramatic displays of indignation. I am a gentleman after all, and I can assure you that the lady is completely fine. Maybe a little uncomfortable,” he added with a smirk and Anthony could see a vein pulsing in Simon’s temple even as he restrained himself from moving this time. 

“And she will remain so, if you do what I tell you. I merely want you to have a taste of your own medicine and then we can call ourselves square and I will tell you where she is.” 

“What do you want?” Simon repeated through clenched teeth.

“Oh, you are going to love this,” Berbrooke replied with clear glee. “I want one of you...” he paused, clearly intending to enhance the dramatic effect, “to fuck the other,” he said with a little giggle. 

Anthony felt as if someone had slapped him. This was outrageous. Simon looked completely shocked, which Anthony guessed mirrored his own expression perfectly. Where would a fellow as entirely lacking in imagination as he suspected Berbrooke was even come by an idea like this. 

“Are you insane?” he asked, although their current situation clearly showed it was a rhetorical question. The man had kidnapped his sister, removed her knickers and was demanding that he and Simon fuck at gun point. What sane person would ever do such a thing?

“You wouldn't want an insane man left alone with your sister, would you Viscount Bridgerton?” Berbrooke answered sweetly. Anthony felt the threat land as his heart contracted painfully. 

“You may decide amongst yourselves who does the act, so long as you don’t take too long. I’m afraid patience is not one of my virtues,” Berbrooke continued, clearly very much enjoying the proceedings. 

“You cannot seriously expect us...” Anthony responded, barely stopping himself from shouting. But Simon cut him off by grabbing his arm in turn and making him turn towards him.

“Simon.. ” Anthony started to protest. He wasn’t really considering it, it was madness. They were gentlemen for God’s sake!

“Anthony, I will do anything to get Daphne out of harm’s way,” Simon started, looking dead serious, “If this is too much for you, you can do the fucking.” 

Anthony started to protest that that wasn’t the point, but Simon didn’t let him interrupt. “We have to find her as soon as possible, if this is what it takes then, fine. Let’s just get it over with,” he finished in a rush. 

Anthony’s instinct was to protest emphatically, but he decided he needed to be rational instead. “How do we even know that he will tell us where she is, or that he will be satisfied with this sick game and won’t want to continue punishing us?” he asked. 

They both glanced towards Berbrooke. He was watching them and smiling.

“I give you my word as a gentleman, once you do this I will tell you where she is,” he called from the cart. 

“As if your word is worth a dime,” Simon muttered under his breath and Anthony couldn’t agree more. 

“Simon,” Anthony started again, but he was all out of ideas. They had a madman pointing a gun at them, what could they possibly do? If they refused he could just shoot them and then the way was clear for him to do as he pleased with Daphne. If they complied, he could still shoot them, but what choice did they have. Even if he was lying and was planning to kill them anyway, they were all out of options. He had a revolver trained on them and a short enough distance to make it a fairly certain kill. They could only hope that he would be satisfied by humiliating them in this manner and then keep his word.

Simon regarded him seriously, giving him a chance to continue and when Anthony just trailed off, he nodded grimly.

“We will do as you ask,” Simon called back to Berbrooke, his voice steely “But if you are lying so help me God, I will skin you...” Anthony could see that despite the position of power the Duke's demeanour was making Berbrooke nervous, he let out a nervous giggle. 

He shook his pistol at them replicating the motion of a wagging finger, as a governess might do to a two year old child and then said, “Get on with it then.”

Simon turned back to Anthony again.

“Simon,” Anthony started in half whisper. “I am not even sure, I can, you know,” he said, making a vague gesture to his crotch area. 

A look of annoyance crossed Simon’s face. “We went to school together, remember, don’t pretend like this will be the first cock you will have seen other than your own,” he said, his eyes in slits, matching Anthony’s volume. 

Anthony opened and then closed his mouth again before finally responding, a little outraged: “This is hardly the same thing! Just because  _ we all _ did some things when we were fifteen, when a prick would stand up at the sound of a rustle of leaves and there was not a woman in the fifteen mile radius doesn’t mean I am, or ever was, interested in fucking a man.” He paused, then added, “especially when someone is pointing a gun at me,” he finished with annoyance.

Simon was regarding him with an equally annoyed look on his face. 

“Well, why don’t you try to dig deep, Anthony. You can’t have it both ways. Either you manage to get it up and fuck me or I can spare you this burden and fuck  _ you _ instead,” he said, his voice icy cold.

Before Anthony could come up with a good enough retort, Berbrooke was speaking again. 

“As entertaining as watching you bicker is, my lords, I think it is time for you to get going.” He called, looking a bit impatient. 

Simon raised his eyebrows in question to Anthony and Anthony huffed in reply. It was not unlike their mode of communication when they were at school Anthony thought with a drop of amusement amid the sea of fear. 

“Fine,” he said, “I will manage somehow.”

Simon scowled back, “My gratitude knows no bounds.” 

With that there was nothing else to do than to start pulling off their pants. Anthony threw off his jacket first. Simon’s was attached to him by the bandage Anthony had tied around his arm. Then, Anthony and Simon glanced at each other and both started untying the binds of their breeches at the same time. As Anthony was halfway through pulling down his trousers, feeling a little awkward with his bum out in front of two men, outside, in the middle of the day, Berbrooke called out, “Wait!”

Suddenly Anthony’s heart was hammering in his chest, was this it, was the whole point was to test them and now this sick bastard would let them go?

“This is too boring,” he said, drawing out his words, dashing Anthony’s hopes, “too transactional. I am looking to be entertained.” He paused for a moment, while Simon and Anthony, both with their trousers around their mid-thigh, waited for him to continue. 

“Why don’t you start with a kiss?” He said, with one of his patented sickly sweet smiles. 

Anthony let out an involuntary growl of indignation. Simon glared at Berbrooke. 

“Come now,” Berbrooke said, with his best impression of a placating tone. “You don’t go shoving your cock into a woman before even kissing her, do you?” He asked, almost as if it was a real question.

Simon pulled his pants back up and Anthony followed his lead. Then they stared at each other for probably a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary and then Simon, ever the man of action, stepped into Anthony’s space and kissed him. 

It was just lips, and his were warm and soft. It was strange. It was strange how normal it felt. He was kissing a man, it should feel foreign and wrong, but it felt no different to kissing a woman. 

“You’re not trying to seduce a teen-aged virgin, let’s see some tongue,” Berbrooke called from the carriage. Anthony felt another surge of anger towards the man. He deserved the worst kind of hell. He was sharply pulled out of his murderous thoughts by Simon putting his good hand on the back of his head and deepening the kiss. 

Anthony felt him running his tongue against his teeth and even though his brain was telling him he should resist, his instinct was to open up. As Simon’s tongue clashed with his own, he finally registered a difference. The kissing was more … combative. They were both fighting a battle for dominance. There was more aggression, more sharp edges, more stubble… 

Anthony felt a flow of arousal travelling from his mouth straight to his cock, which didn’t seem to be at all concerned by the forensic analysis of all the differences between the sexes in the question of kissing. It was just so exciting to be kissing someone like this. Especially since it had been so long. It’s been months since Siena dumped him and he had revelled in moping the whole time instead of getting back to it. 

He had been worried that he wouldn’t be able to get hard and now he was worried what Simon would think of him when he saw that he was having no trouble at all. 

He pulled off reluctantly, having found the experience very enjoyable despite himself. He looked at Simon who looked as flustered and winded as he felt and couldn’t help himself glancing down to his crotch for a quick peek. To his relief, he saw that Simon was also sporting a bit of tenting. He was overcome by a bit of giddiness and for a moment he couldn’t recall why they were doing this. Why wouldn’t they be doing this?

Things quickly snapped into place at the sound of their torturer’s laughter.

“That was something!” He called with excitement, “You deserve a reward.” And with that he threw something to Anthony. Anthony caught it, a little confused, still feeling a little hazy from that kiss. 

It was a little bottle of oil and it took him a second to realise what it was for. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked at Simon, who was regarding him with a serious expression. All merriment from their kiss wiped away in an instant. 

How did a man like Berbrooke even know they would need this. Why was he looking so smug about it?

“Go on then, we don’t have all day. Poor Daphne must be getting cold,” Berbrooke called in a sing-song voice. 

Anthony saw Simon’s jaw clench. He himself strengthened his resolve and pulled off his trousers. Simon followed suit and they stood regarding each other for a second. The little arousal they had gained from their kiss seemed to have evaporated for them both at the reminder of their grim purpose. Anthony almost wanted to suggest that they do it again, but he couldn’t, it would give Berbrooke too much satisfaction. 

He stepped into Simon instead and spoke to him quietly. 

“Have you done this before?” he asked. 

“What, been fucked by a man?” Simon responded with a raised eyebrow. 

“No, I mean fucked anyone in the ..” he trailed off. Simon nodded. 

“You haven’t?” He asked. Anthony shook his head. 

Simon pursed his lips in response. “You will need to prepare me with your fingers first, let me see,” he said, holding out his hand for the oil. At this, Anthony’s head helpfully supplied a mental image of the Duke working his fingers into his sister’s ass, which he struggled to dismiss as he handed over the little bottle.

“That will do just fine,” Simon said, handing it back. “Just make sure to use a good bit of it, it isn’t like using a woman’s cunt, there is nothing to ease the way.” Anthony nodded. 

“Are you sure...” he started, but yet again he didn’t know how to continue. 

“I think it’s best if I get on all fours, you can imagine I am some wildly sexy dame” He said with a brief smile, that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Anthony wanted to protest, it wasn’t really fair, but Simon was already getting on all fours with his back to Anthony so Anthony let it drop. As if he could mistake Simon's strong thighs and hairy butt for anything but a man’s. The outline of his cock hanging between his open thighs also didn’t help in the crafting of any kind of fantasy. 

He kneeled behind Simon and pulled open the little bottle. He would get him ready first and then worry about his own performance. 

He poured a bit of oil on his fingers, being economical to ensure there would be enough left for the main event, and steeling himself, started by rubbing Simon’s anus. He heard a sharp intake of breath as his thumb touched the ring of muscles. 

“Are you ok?” he called. Simon nodded, then responded in the affirmative, sounding a little hoarse.

Anthony’s heart was hammering in his chest and he chastised himself. He wasn’t the one who had to take another man’s cock in his ass. Simon volunteered and he just let him, too afraid to do it himself. The least he could do is get on with it as an adult, so they could get it over with. 

With that, he pushed a finger past the ring of muscles. It was incredibly tight, his finger barely fit. How was he going to fit his cock in there? It didn’t help that Simon clenched around him, the moment he breached him. Before he had a chance to comment, Simon must have realised his own mistake and took a deep breath and released it, his muscles loosening just a touch. 

Anthony worked his finger in and out a few times until it could travel with relative ease and then, once he deemed it was as far as the first finger would take him, he added another. Again, Simon’s reaction was to clench. Anthony gave him a moment and he repeated the process of breathing to relax. 

Anthony worked his fingers in and out. He couldn’t see Simon’s face to gauge any discomfort, so he asked again “Are you ok?” This time Simon’s “yes” sounded a little irritated, and for some reason that made Anthony smile. 

He added another finger. Once the three fingers were able to comfortably fit in and out he was satisfied that Simon was ready for him. Now the issue was to get himself ready for Simon. He couldn’t help but notice that his ministrations had some effect on Simon, who was now sporting a bit of an erection. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the same effect on him. 

He took a quick peek at Berbrooke who caught him in the act and smiled. He seemed to be observing them with rapt attention. It made Anthony feel sicker than he already felt. The heaviness in the pit of his stomach that started this morning when he received that letter was still very much with him.

He turned his attention back to Simon and the task at hand. He added some more oil to his hand and started working himself. He clenched his eyes shut and thought of Siena. 

….  _ Siena’s gorgeous breasts, her delicious throaty moans, her dripping pussy _ …

It was having an effect and he could feel himself hardening in his hand. 

.. _. the feeling of her mouth on his cock, of kissing her, of devouring her sweet mouth, of Simon devouring his mouth… _

Anthony’s eyes snapped open. His brain was just confused. He didn’t need to think about that right now. He had done what he set out to do anyway. He saw Simon staring at him over his shoulder. 

“Are you ready?” he asked. 

“I should be asking you that,” Anthony replied, his heart still hammering in his chest from that last intrusive, unwanted thought.

“Yes, just get on with it,” Simon said, before turning back to stare ahead of him. Anthony poured some more oil on his cock, tested the looseness of Simon’s hole one more time with his thumb and then, he was pushing in. 

It was like nothing he could have ever imagined. The vise-hot grip of Simon’s channel felt incredible. Better than anything Anthony had ever experienced. It probably helped that it had been so long. Food always tastes better when you are hungry, he reckoned. 

Simon let out a gasp and Anthony paused his progress.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, with some concern. It took Simon a second to respond.

“No, it’s just...” he paused, “strange. Keep going,” he directed. Anthony pushed his shirt and jacket out of the way ever so slightly and put a hand to his side, hoping the gesture would be reassuring, and then kept pushing in slowly. He had to pull back a little and push in with a bit more force a few times, but finally he was hilt deep in his brother-in-law and it was a bit of revelation. He understood now why some men did this. He didn’t know how it felt for Simon, but so him the feeling was fucking divine. 

He was desperate to start moving, but he wanted to make sure Simon was ok first.

“Simon?” He asked. 

“Move,” Simon grunted in response. And so, he moved.

He started thrusting in slowly at first, getting used to the incredible tightness that surrounded him. He adjusted a little to give him a better swing and suddenly, Simon took in a sharp intake of breath. Anthony paused. 

“Are you ok?” He asked, and immediately wanted to slap himself. Clearly Simon was already sick of hearing this question. Simon took a second to reply and having to stay still while hilt deep in his ass was honestly the hardest thing Anthony had ever had to do in his life. 

Finally, Simon responded, “yes,” and after a pause, “that felt good.” Anthony took that in. It didn’t sound like it was easy for the Duke to admit that, but Anthony was glad that he did. It reminded him that fucking was a team sport. 

He reached out and took Simon’s cock in his hand making Simon gasp.

“You don’t have to,” he started. Anthony interrupted him, “we’re in this together.”

Simon didn’t object further so Anthony took that as acquiescence. He started moving again, trying to find the angle that Simon seemed to like. It didn’t take long. A moan alerted him that he was on the right track. Simon’s cock was already mostly there when he touched it, but he continued working it, bringing it to full hardness. He supposed it made sense that getting fucked felt good too, otherwise why would anyone do it. 

Anthony kept thrusting, his balls connecting with Simon’s back side on each swing. He was slowly building up the tempo until he completely forgot why he had to do this, why he was in the middle of a meadow fucking the Duke of Hastings and just gave himself over to the glorious feeling of it. His own pleasure, getting so close now, and the pleasure of the body under him, which, if his experience as a rake taught him anything wasn’t far off the peak either. Simon’s breathing was laboured, and he was moving in time with his thrusts, trying to get as much friction as possible for his cock. 

Just as Anthony was becoming desperate in his movements, he felt Simon shudder under him and suddenly he was spending all over Anthony’s hand, the grass and his own shirt. He contracted around Anthony and Anthony was suddenly delighted that he held out long enough for Simon to reach his peak before him. The spasms around his cock sent him right over the edge and before he could even think of pulling out he was spending inside Simon with abandon. 

He briefly wondered at what the etiquette was in relations such as these but dismissed it as irrelevant, since neither of them would ever be doing this again. Right?

Simon collapsed onto his forearms and Anthony cursed himself for forgetting that he was shot in the arm very recently and then spent this whole time holding himself up on it while Anthony fucked him. 

Anthony internally jumped at the thought. He had just fucked the Duke of Hastings, his friend and brother-in-law, Simon… He had just fucked Simon, Daphne’s husband. Daphne. 

He pulled himself out of his reverie and got up. His legs felt a little shaky and his whole body was protesting at being made to move so soon after such a spectacular orgasm but Anthony told it to shut up. He helped Simon to his feet too and grabbed his breeches. 

“Daphne, where is she?” He asked forcefully, while pulling them on. 

Berbrooke was positively grinning. 

“Of course, of course. I did give you my word.” He paused, taking a deep breath and Anthony could swear he did it with the sole purpose of annoying them, “The Duchess is tied up in the cellar of Mr Green’s house, in the village.” 

Anthony looked over at Simon who had a stricken expression on his face. She had been in the village this whole time. But that didn’t matter, he thought, they would not have found her in some random cellar, this was not all in vain. 

“I could hardly have started dragging her across country with you two prancing about and looking to foil me. But that will not be an issue anymore,” he said as he raised his pistol, aiming it at Simon’s head, his patent smile plastered on his face but his eyes looking mean and calculating. 

“You gave your word,” Simon growled.

Berbrooke's smile only widened at this. “I gave you my word I would tell you where she is, and I did. I never said you would get to see her.” 

Before he was even finished speaking, Simon and Anthony both moved. A shot rang out but Simon was already halfway to the cart when the bullet hit the place his head used to be. 

Berbrooke fumbled for the second revolver, and the delay was just long enough for Simon to land atop him and wrestle it out of his hand.They both tumbled out of the cart. Anthony made for the fallen revolver, but the horse huffed at the disruption and moved away, slowing his progress as he tried to get around it. 

Anthony finally grabbed the revolver and pointed it at Berbrooke. But while they were still scrambling there was too much danger he would hit Simon instead. 

“Stop!” He shouted, but that only led to Simon pausing, which gave Berbrooke an opening. He shifted atop Simon and grabbed a knife from his belt. He made to hit Simon with it but his position finally gave Anthony an opening and without hesitation he pulled the trigger. With a surprised ‘o’, Berbrooke shuddered and then fell atop Simon. 

Simon pushed him off and climbed up. Anthony lowered the gun, still a little shell shocked. It all happened so quickly, it didn’t feel real. They regarded each other for a moment while Anthony’s heartbeat returned to normal. 

“We will tell everyone he was extorting us for ransom money,” Simon said matter-of-factly. It took Anthony an instant to process what he said and then he burst out laughing. Simon maintained the facade of seriousness for half a second before tumbling into hysterical cheer with him. Once they started, they couldn’t seem to be able to stop. The mirth was like a cathartic release for the stress of the last few hours. 

When they finally calmed down, Simon seemed to remember their purpose. “Daphne, I must go.”

“I won’t let you go alone, I must know she is ok,” Anthony replied. Simon looked at the dead Lord and Anthony followed his gaze. 

“We can call the constable from the village”, he said. Simon merely nodded to acknowledge his words and made for his horse. As they were mounting, Anthony didn’t miss his wince as Simon got into the saddle. Strangely, that made his stomach flutter. 

Without any further pronouncements, they were off. 

**Author's Note:**

> WoG: Daphne is completely fine by the way. A little shook but she'll live. I didn't want to drag the story out and have to write a whole tearful reunion scene. 
> 
> Please comment, each comment honestly and genuinely makes my day. 
> 
> <3


End file.
